


The World Is Ugly (But You're Beautiful to Me)

by booksareourlove



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Caffè Florian, Coffee, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Ichirou kills Tetsuji, Incest, Italy, Love, M/M, Quite Literally, Riko lives, Roma | Rome, Rome - Freeform, Starbucks Trash #1, VENICE CITY OF SHIPS, Venice, au - riko is alive, coffee in venice, high on madness, ichiriko, it's all going to be okay, let's waste time, seeing is believing, then takes Riko out for coffee, there's literally only fluff, well technically they didn't know each other their whole lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksareourlove/pseuds/booksareourlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Moriyama Brothers go for coffee to Venice.<br/>Basically, Ichirou kills Tetsuji and not Riko and decides it's time for some family-time in Italy (one day) and then they are in love.<br/>Featuring Lira Yanik, a stewardess and sister figure, and Warner, Head of Security and father figure.</p><p>Update: I have been rereading TFC and I cannot remember a world where I wanted Riko to be happy but this would be it, I suppose</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Is Ugly (But You're Beautiful to Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how this happened, but I needed Ichirou and Riko to be happy in some universe. This started out as a brotherly reunion over coffee but then I realised  
> I SHIP ICHIRIKO  
> and that's okay.  
> If you're not comfortable reading about two brothers falling in love and kiss, then don't read.
> 
> Title taken from the song The World is Ugly by My Chemical Romance.  
> Alternatively titled Just Forget the World (taken from 2 Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol) and Right Now (taken from the song of the same name by Rihanna)
> 
> Enjoy.

**Riko POV**

The shot echoes through my bones and seems to claw its way into my chest.

I think I hear drops of blood hitting the couch and the stone floor – then master Tetsuji’s body slumping back into the cushions of the sofa. I dare a glance at him. On his forehead, right between his eyes, is a dark red spot. He’s pale, his eyes are closed and his body is so uncharacteristically relaxed that my stomach tightens and I can’t help but feel nauseous.

“Nathaniel”, Ichirou’s cold voice draws my attention back to him. “This is all you’re going to get. Congratulations, I guess, for winning Championships.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Neil – Nathaniel – says, emotionless, and with a glance at his uncle he turns on his heel and leaves the tower.

My arm throbs in pain. The medication must be wearing off. I fix my gaze on the floor to my feet. Why hasn’t my brother killed me? Maybe he’ll command one of his men to do it. And maybe... I can’t think that. Fear is like a dagger between my ribs. What if he tortures me?

“Riko.” His voice cuts through the silence I didn’t realise was this thick, this suffocating. “Look at me.”

I draw in a sharp breath and slowly look at him. Ichirou Moriyama. My brother; but only by blood, only by name. I have never seen him in person, but his dark, expensive suit and well-styled hair are just as impressive as in the little news he’s appeared in.

He waves. Neil’s uncle rises and leaves with a small bow. I don’t know his name, but I don’t think it matters anymore. The security staff leaves and the door shuts close with a quiet _klick._ We’re alone with a corpse. “Hello”, Ichirou breathes.

A whisper into the chasm of two lives spent apart between us. A whisper to the stars in the cool night air. So out of place in this black Exy Stadium. So out of character for the walls of Castle Evermore.

His eyes flicker to the master and back. “I’m sorry about your... coach”, he says, “but I could not let him live. You understand, all right?”

That I was going to die now? In privacy? Why did he let me go to the hospital in the first place, if he was going to hurt me all over again? My heart beats too fast. The blood is rushing through my ears. I hold my breath and count to two. Always two. Never three or four. One, two. “Ichirou”, I say, or whisper, or scream, I don’t know, maybe he slit my throat and I’m chocking his name through my blood, I—

“Riko.”

I blink. He kneels in front of me, his dark eyes like the darkness between the stars. It’s the second time he said my name.

“Come on. I’ve got a flight, and Italy is most beautiful in the morning. You can sleep on the plane.” Ichirou stands and walks to the doors. “You look like you could need the rest.”

It takes me another breath to realise he wants me to follow him, so I do. I wince at the pain in my arm when my movement disturbs it, and I leave the room. I don’t look back. I will never see this place again, will I? And I think that thought fills me with hope, for a fraction of a second – but there is no such thing.

 

* * *

 

**Ichirou POV**

My brother follows me into the back of a car, and since he doesn’t seem too keen on talking, I remain silent. It takes us thirty minutes to my private jet, and one of my men hands me a folder with paper work and passports, and two small bottles of painkillers and sleeping pills for Riko. Why _did_ he have to try to attack Nathaniel?

Oh, _maybe_ because that smart mouth said something _nice,_ my Inner Intellect shoots back. With “nice” I mean an insult, obviously. Knowing Nathaniel, and knowing his father, it was surprising none of the foxes had killed him. His smart mouth would really be the death of him.

I walk on board and ungracefully slump into a seat, motioning for Riko to take the one across from me because he hesitated. Does he grief Tetsuji? Avoiding his eyes I put the bottes on the small desk between us. He takes them, and the plane starts moving. Lira, the stewardess, hands him a glass filled with water. Pills rattle and Lira walks away with the empty glass.

When we are high in the air, flying east, I finally dare look at him. He’s asleep. I know I need rest, too, so I take my tie off and use my jacket as a blanket – I’m sure Lira will give me an actual blanket later, but my mind is numb. If Kengo were alive, he’d tell me to pull myself together. But he isn’t here, and for the next ten hours I can pretend to not exist.

* * *

We arrive at the airport of Venice in the early morning, just before sunrise.

Riko’s silence feels like claws scratching on my bones.

Instead of stating a conversation, I watch the sun rise over the Mediterranean, as we take a boat into the harbour towards the floating city. This early in the morning Venice feels like a phantom dream, buildings dark grey between the mist, the waters still and unmoving in the smaller water-streets. The noise of the ship we’re on cuts through the atmosphere and here and there a lonely seagull sits on the stone-streets or a windowsill.

Finally we arrive and without a glance at the driver – or, _shipper,_ – I set foot on the streets of Venice. There are four security guards visibly with me and Riko, but I know that more are around us. One of them stays back to pay the ship’s pilot, and Riko follows me down the alley and past a high pillar with a winged lion majestically posing on top of it. Together we step onto the Piazza San Marco – one of the famous landmarks. Saint Mark’s Basilika rises to our right.

Here, waiters are already buzzing with activity, taking tables and chairs outside and putting white tablecloth, menus and small boxes with sugar on them. Everything is impossibly classy and neat.

A waitress approaches us, a smile plastered on her face. I wonder if she knows who I am – or if she doesn’t: what she suspects. “Welcome to Caffè Florian, Signore”, she says in heavy accented English.

“We’d like a table inside, please”, I say, bored-ness dripping from my voice. “It’s rather chilly out here.” And hey, it’s true – the wind is quite cold, and although I changed on the plane into jeans and a dark shirt, the wind (a light breeze) is biting through the thin fabric as if it wasn’t there. I know that Riko can’t feel much better, even though he is wearing a sweater.

We’re seated on a table on the first floor, the windows overlooking a small park and then Laguna Veneta, where a few ships float around, almost sleepily. A young waiter brings a tray with a coffee can, a milk can, sugar and cocoa in small paper bags and cups. One of the pros of being Ichirou Moriyama: you can just give your head of security a list of things you want and you don’t want, and there’s a one hundred and one percent chance of that happening. One of the cons is that with the training Kengo gave me, it is impossible for me to not notice that two other tables were already occupied by my security. And as soon as civilians would start snowing in, there would be more guards. The cafe probably hasn’t even officially opened.

I fill the cups half with black coffee and put some milk and cocoa in mine before gulping in down and refilling the cup. Although I pretend to not watch my brother, I notice him taking milk and sugar and stirring before carefully nipping his cup.

“You know, you can say something”, I say after another minute of pointedly ignoring the other’s presence. I openly look at him and he watches me right back. He’s been watching me since he stepped into the tower and saw me up close for the first time in his life. Well, for the first time actually in person, that he can remember. I remember him, from when he was just a baby in our mother’s arms. She would always smile at him as if nothing else mattered. But even at my young age I knew that she knew that her life was about to end and nothing and nobody was able to save her family from being torn apart.

“What could I possibly say?” His voice is like cold water tasting like desperation. “I failed. I don’t know why you even bother with this.”

“Riko”, I say, but stop. Does he seriously think so low of himself? I always knew he had issues – with his Exy obsession and his cruel games with Day, Moreau and even Nathaniel. And yes, his doings to tear the Foxes apart did cross a line. Many lines. But that was all cleaned up now, and everyone involved had paid the ultimate prize. But Kengo had also left me a lot to deal with, and Riko’s schemes were just a small part of them. “Look”, I say, and I don’t bother to hide the emotion behind my words, “I just want to have a family. Now that our father and uncle are dead, I can. _We_ can.”

“But... you said I fucked things up for you. Why did you not kill me?” His expression is unreadable. Shit.

“I told _Tetsuji,_ that his ignorance fucked things up.” I clarify and shake my head. Thinking back to that conversation in Japanese, before I killed him, I really was vague. No wonder Riko looks at me like that. Like I was just going to kill him later. “I don’t blame you.”

Truth. That was what I needed now, more than ever.

Truth is what I give him. “Tetsuji never gave you the family you deserved, just as I was denied mine. We both found an escape, yours was just a little more violent than mine.” I pause to swallow a mouthful of chocolate flavoured coffee. (Okay, also for the dramatic music to play, but that doesn’t happen, so I let my words sink in.) “Do you remember our mother?”

“You know I don’t.” But despite his harsh tone, he relaxes and leans back to the cushioned bench.

“Well, I do. And I know that she would have wanted us to be there for each other, to be together.”

Riko’s dark eyes tear me apart. “What was your escape? You seem to know everything about me.”

“False. I know _most_ things about you.” I smile at his irritation. “I don’t know your favourite ice cream. Or if there are people you actually like. Or your favourite books and movies. What do you do when you’re not playing Exy?”

The look he gave me says that he knows that I know _exactly_ what he does when he’s not playing Exy. Still, he replies, “I like dark fantasy and horror books, if you must know. And I like movies by DC and Marvel. I don’t ‘actually like’ people, but I liked Kevin”, he adds, emphasising _actually like._

I lift my eyebrow. “But what’s your _favourite ice cream?”_

“...ky’s”, he mumbles and adverts his gaze.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I can’t help but be amused, and at this point I’m probably grinning like crazy.

“Cookies”, Riko says, louder, and clears his throat. “My favourite ice cream is cookies. What’s yours?”

“Strawberry”, I say, and he chuckles quietly. Pulling out my phone I mumble an excuse to Riko’s questioning expression and send a short text to my head of security, Warner. He had always been more of a father than Kengo could dream of. And as soon as Kengo was dead, I appointed Warner my head of security. I’ve never seen him more alive and happy with his job.

“But really”, Riko says after a minute of silence. “What was your escape?”

“I...” I stop. Truth. Truth? Truth. A sigh escapes my lips and I look outside the window, to the now risen sun and the now busy bay. “Reading.” My heart holds its breath and sheer force of will keeps my lips moving. “I’d read everything. News, books, receipts, letters... I liked hearing the stories of other people, and usually I envied them. I sometimes even faked illness, just so I could stay in bed and read this fantasy trilogy.” My mouth is suddenly dry and I hide behind my cup. A part of me whispers that I have no reason to hide that now, that Kengo is dead, and I can finally embrace who I am and who I want to be, and that _it’s over,_ but there I am, looking intensively into my brown coffee and waiting for my little brother to say something.

“I would never have guessed”, Riko says, with something like wonder cloaked into his words.

I dare look up, and find his eyes watching me in interest and something more, something I cannot guess. My rescue comes in form of the waiter, and he’s carrying to large bowls filled with ice cream. Strawberry and Cookie. I smirk at Riko’s confusion and text Warner a _thank you :)._

* * *

After our breakfast (much ice cream) we go for a walk through Venice. But as soon as tourists flood the streets at an unbearable level, we take a ferry back to the airport and have lunch together with Warner and Lira, the stewardess. In the late early evening we land in Rome, and one of Warner’s hired limousines takes us to the Pantheon in the centre of the city. And although I think it’s unnecessary to take a _limousine,_ Warner did always like them, and Lira seems to love it.

While Riko and Lira engage into an argument over Exy, we walk north to Piazza del Popolo, and then west to Pompte Regina Margherita, a bridge over the River Tiber. Lira snaps picture after picture, claiming to send them to the rest of my flight staff. The sun sets and Warner calls another limousine – this time saying it would be a good impression on the hotel we’d be staying the night.

Which turns out to be true. The hotel is a fancy Victorian-Modern building featuring a roundabout traffic to get to and from the foyer and symmetrical trees. The staff doesn’t address us by name, but still gives us key cards and guides us to the restaurant even though we are almost offensively underdressed. It’s one of those times when I don’t want to know what exactly Warner told the hotel. As soon as we reach a table Warner excuses himself immediately. A head of my security does have a busy job. Warner and Lira had previously filled any and all silences with happy chatter and comments about buildings, people and the latest pop culture news.

“So, how come you work as a stewardess on a private jet?” Riko politely asks Lira after the waitress leaves with our orders.

“Oh, my parents worked for the kangaroo, you see”, Lira uses Kengo Moryama’s unofficial codename by Ichirou Moriyama TM with a smile, “so I was kind of expected to do the same. But I didn’t want to be driver like them, so I befriended flight staff. I’m actually not tall enough to be a stewardess on normal planes, so I’m good.” Her laugh rings through the almost-empty restaurant.

“And”, Riko asks and his eyes drift over to me, “you two are engaged?”

“Oh”, Lira blushes and giggles.

I was content to listen silently, but at this I laugh out loud, breathless, and run a hand through my hair. Then I notice Riko’s lifted brows and understand. “Riiight, you don’t know.”

“I don’t know what? Weren’t you supposed to marry a woman called Lira Yanik?”

“That was, before”, Lira clarifies, a smile in her eyes. “The kangaroo asked Ichirou to pick a future wife as soon as it was clear he was ill, and we decided this would give us both more freedom to take a break from everything every once in a while.”

“We’ll break the engagement off, as soon as the media doesn’t focus on Moriyama business anymore”, I add, and smile at Lira. She really is great, and in the last year, those days with her outside of my father’s circle were a much needed break and time to read and recover.

Lira goes on to talk about her parents – two drivers in my car crew, two reserved but friendly people who always smiled at strangers, no matter if they were going to die a painful death or live happily ever after. The food arrives soon after and we eat in silence. Lira excuses herself from desert, saying she was very tired and wanted to write the postcards she’d bought earlier.

Desert consisted of chocolate and vanilla ice cream.

I _hate_ both sorts. Riko eats the chocolate scoops of both bowls. The waiter comes to clean off the table and leaves with a soft _good night_ on his lips – in Italian.

“Tell me about our mother.”

His request hits me unprepared and my thoughts fly in all directions of the sky. “She...” I clear my throat. “She was beautiful. She was always kind. She sang us to sleep. She read books to me, and some days we would go to a playground. She taught me how to ride a bike in the back yard of the mansion.” Truth. “The kangaroo rarely bothered about us back then, but when you were about one year old she just... disappeared. With you. I thought that maybe she ran away, but later I realised what happened.”

Suddenly his warm palm lies on the back of my hand and I meet his dark eyes.

 _Beautiful,_ I think.

Riko doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. What could we possibly say to each other? We both lived twenty years of desperation, always searching for an anchor. Mine was my mother’s kindness and love for stories, his was the cruelty he believed was his family, was him. “Let’s go to sleep”, I finally say.

We walk to the lift and get to our floor. His door is to left, mine is to the right. His number is #402, mine is #401. My heart does this thing where it feels heavier than it should. Riko’s expression is guarded, but unimpressed as he turns towards me.

“Ichirou”, he says, the light softly outlining his features.

Without thinking I close the space between us and press my lips down to his, his face between my hands and his short hair like silk against my skin. For a few loud seconds of silence I kiss him, and then I retreat. Judging by his unmoved expression I should not have done that.

_I should not have done that._

I curl my fingers to fists and meet Riko’s eyes once again.

“I’m sorry”, I breathe. “I should have asked you first. I don’t – I don’t want you to do anything you don’t choose to do.” I run my fingers through my hair and look past him. “Good night, Riko.”

I turn away, but then there is a hand on the collar of my shirt, tugging my down.

This kiss is sweet and deep, slow and intimate. My hands are back in his hair, but we don’t touch, his injured arm between us. His lips taste of chocolate, and his breath is hot on my skin. His hand moves over my chest and we part, out of breath.

“Ichirou”, he says again, voice cloaked in emotion.

Then I blink and he’s gone, the sound of his suite door shutting closed echoing through the hallway. How long have I been standing here? _Ichirou,_ he’d said. As if it was the answer to everything.

 

* * *

 

**Riko POV - two weeks later, New York City**

“You’re kidding.”

“No? I told you. I’ve never been to a Starbucks in my life.”

“But...” I am at a loss of words. “That’s impossible.”

“I am living proof”, Ichirou comments, smiling, and we enter the small cafe.

I smile back at him, because his smile is like a sky full of shooting stars and it is physically impossible to not feel my heart jump a little. Well, jump to the moon and back, not just ‘a little.’

We walk to the counter and I order every Frappuchino they offer while sliding two 100$ bills over to the cashier. “With whipped cream, please”, I add with my best people-smile, “We’ll be sitting over there by the window, if that’s okay.”

The cashier agrees and I pull Ichirou over to a table next to the windows. Things changed in the last two weeks. Kissing Ichirou is an everyday thing. My arm is still bad, but I got the #1 tattoo taken off my face, and although only two weeks ago the Foxes won Championships, the news mostly moved on. More or less.

“You know”, Ichirou says, “in a month I’m officially calling the engagement to Lira off.” His eyes follow my every movement, as if he’s afraid I’m going to run away. What isn’t going to happen, by the way.

“So soon?”

“It did seem to bother you last week.”

“Last _week,_ Ichirou. Geez.” I shake my head, but smile. “We’re brothers, if you haven’t noticed, so you think an _engagement_ is a problem? An engagement to _Lira,_ of all people? She’s practically your sister.”

That’s when we get the first two of many Frappuchinos.

Two hours later we have five favourites, but Ichirou calls Warner to help finish up the drinks. He and the three other security staff around are happy to help and even order a bunch more that we take to Lira’s apartment, because Lira is Starbucks Trash #1 and someone needed to soften the blow when she learned that Ichirou’s first visit to Starbucks was without her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:  
> 1\. I know that Riko is a horrible person. But whenever I think of him, I just hear his voice saying "Ichirou" with so much emotion my heart collapses and then I hear the shot that ends Riko's life.  
> I know Riko deserved a far worse end for what he did to Jean, to Kevin, to Andrew and Seth and Neil and to the Ravens, but I also believe that it's not entirely his fault. How is a kid going to learn kindness and love when it's family rejects it and it's uncle only wants one thing - an Exy star. And the fact that the Moriyamas are quite cruel to their enemies does not help here.
> 
> 2\. I visited Venice only once, a few years ago, and it was definitely not morning. I also never set foot into Caffè Florian, but it does exist. I got all the information of Venice and Rome from Google Maps. You could say I used them fictituously.
> 
> 3\. I also named the ship of Riko/Ichirou ICHIRIKO and you probably can't convince me otherwise


End file.
